A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Bermuda
by August DuMonte
Summary: Set almost directly after the film, this fic deals with the Canonicals and some Original Characters. Much fun to be had with slash, het, rum, and mocking the Navy. Chapter five now up!
1. Introductions

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Bermuda:

Chapter one:

Introductions.

(with author's notes at the bottom)

******************

            The day was bright and clear, no sign of a storm, and all was nearly well with the world. Of course all couldn't be completely well with the world, because that would mean everyone was getting along with everyone else; and without the thrill of fear that comes from hearing pirates are in the area, life in the Caribbean could be pretty damn boring. 

            The lack of resort hotels most likely contributed to this boredom, as well as the distinct shortage of large quantities of rum. Well, there was always plenty of rum, but when the going got tough in the Caribbean, the tough got really, really drunk. And times were really tough for your average working-class Joe.  Anyway, back to the pirates, since that's what y'all came to hear about in the first place.

            At the same time that Captain Jack Sparrow was sailing the Pearl out of Port Royal and Will and Elizabeth were playing kissy-face, a new threat loomed on the horizon. More specifically, the threat was headed towards Port Royal from Tortuga, which had been left in disorder and chaos. …well, moreso than usual at any rate. Tortuga had been a victim of a whirlwind of violence and excessive partying, or a sort never before seen in that part of the Caribbean. 

            Rumors at that point in history traveled much faster than any ship, and so the inhabitants of Port Royal shortly learned that an as yet unknown pirate vessel was on its way to their sunny town. Rumor also had it Governor Swann had taken the news rather badly (after all, he was more stressed than usual with the elopement of his daughter) and was locked in his rooms, crying.

            Commodore Norrington was of course presented with the news in a timely and expedient manner, and his first reaction was to grumble "Bollocks!" in a rather hungover tone of voice, and send the footman to find his pocketbook so he could pay Giselle the Hooker for her time.

            "Stupid bloody pirates…what do we know about the ship, Lievtenant?"

            "They say she's captained by a woman, sir, though I'm inclined to dismiss it as malarkey, sir."

            "A female pirate," Norrington winced at the afternoon sunlight shining through the windows. "That is by far the most absurd thing I have ever heard of." He then began looking around for a cold compress and perhaps some headache medicine.

            "Well, that's what they say, sir." The Lievtenant was getting rather unnerved at this point.

            "Look, are you sure it's not- I don't know, Jack Sparrow in a dress or something?" Norrington snapped. "Giselle? Have you seen my wig, I can't find it- _Giselle_?!"

            "I 'ave not seen it, monsieur." She said calmly and closed the curtains as the Commodore was unfortunately rather photophobic due to his hangover. "eet could be Annamaria, zo."

            "I-what? My wig is not named Annamaria. Ugh, Lievtenant, _please_ fetch me some coffee."

            "Right away sir," said the Lievtenant, and fled.

            "No, Annamaria ze _pirate_, monsieur. She ees razzer well-known in Tortuga, but she 'as not 'ad a ship for some time."

            "Well, it's a start at least."

*****************   

            Meanwhile on a rather sad-looking deserted island a man was starving to death. It was rather disconcerting to him that he has been starving for ten years and was only now going to die of it. Sometimes he would mutter under his breath how he was going to kill that Rat Bastard Barbossa now the curse was lifted. Still, it seemed far more likely that he would die of starvation long before that happened. And he didn't even have a pistol. Indeed, despite the fact that the island lay between Tortuga and Port Royal, it never received any traffic as it did not intersect any standard shipping routes and had nothing on it of any value. At one point before he passed out from delirium he had tried to calculate the odds of his getting picked up by a passing ship that was unfamiliar with the region and then not getting hanged for piracy before he starved to death. He figured it was nearly impossible, or extremely improbable. Fortunately for the castaway it was going to be a Ford Prefect sort of day.

            The ship was approaching a small, ugly island, which didn't look very promising. However the captain was in a sightseeing mood and they passed close enough that a certain hungry pirate on said island saw the ship, and subsequently mustered enough energy to jump about and wave a lot of shiny metal objects in the sun. And then of course he collapsed.

            "Seems there's someone on the island, captain," the first mate observed. "Oh not wait, he's fallen down. Shame, that. And he has such shiny weapons, too. Looked like a pirate." The captain drummed her fingers on the railing, silently considering her options. She needed more crew members, and ones who wouldn't ask too many questions. A castaway in her debt could be useful. 

            "Tim!" she finally said, snapping her fingers. Tim obligingly appeared. "Go fetch our castaway back to the ship, will you? And take Lievtenant Thom with you."

            "Aye, ma'am." Tim nodded curtly, making a sort of clicking noise as he did so.

Tim and Thom set off in one of the rowboats. It took a fair amount of dragging to get the man into the boat, despite his emaciated appearance. 

            "What shall we name him, my friend?" said the captain to the first mate. She in turn lifted the hood from her head, and peered at the approaching man. Her gaze was deep and inscrutable, and seemed to look into the man's very soul. And then she spoke.

            "How about Poor Shoeless Bastard, cap'n?"

            "Sounds splendid!"

**************  

            Meanwhile (again), Captain Jack Sparrow was busy sailing to Tortuga. Of course he didn't know that the island had been ransacked. It's not like he had a magical talking hat or anything. That's just absurd. Noooo. Not at all possible. At any rate he was not aware of the current state of his destination, and so was whistling a happy tune. A happy tune which was NOT, in fact, "Yo ho, A pirate's life for me." This fact led the crew to believe that Jack was more insane than usual today. Or maybe it was the lack of rum. ..and, gentle reader, if you're wondering why exactly the lack of rum keeps coming up, it's because that due to decreased piracy, the British navy had turned it's eye towards the rumrunners that infested the area. And so now there were very few rumrunners, and rum prices had gone up dramatically. Really, really super dramatically. Which is funny, considering that this is the Caribbean we're talking about, and there's plenty of rum to be had, or made, for god's sake, and this plot point is just getting silly, so let's just say that our alcoholic friend Norrington had stockpiled all the rum in Port Royal for himself, eh? Good. 

            "I spy, with mylittleeye…" Jack slurred, looking through his spyglass at a nearby island. "…something beginning wiiiith….S."

            "Ship, mayhaps?" said Annamaria, rolling her eyes. Jack smiled at her. 

            "Why yes, however did you guess, my dear?"

            "Your spyglass is broken. The ship's right over there." She pointed to said ship, which was really not all that far away. At all. 

            "Well! Righto! Let's go take it, eh? I still owe you a ship after all."

            "Damn right you do, Sparrow." Annamaria muttered.

            "CAPTAIN Sparrow! Everyone always forgets that!"

            "Only when it's convenient to the humor of the plot." Mr. Cotton's parrot chirped. Those in earshot turned towards the parrot, wondering at its foresight. And also its breaking of the fourth wall.

            "er..Shiver me timbers!" the parrot replied, hoping to cover its slip. And it did. And the Pearl swiftly made its approach towards the other ship. The crew of the other ship didn't notice, as they were too busy bringing aboard a certain unconscious castaway and going through his pockets. So, with tension mounting in the viewing (reading?) audience, a collision course with disaster was begun. And then Galadriel swooped down out of the trees and-wait, wrong story. Sorry bout that. 

**********

Notes: August here, talking about my fic:  I do not in any way own Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters. Just borrowing them for a bit of fun. I don't even own the Lievtenant in the first scene, though we'll se more of him eventually. What I do own, to some extent, is the as-yet-unnamed ship and its crew. Especially Tim. I own Tim, though I may pimp him out to interested parties. 

This story is odd. Just FYI. There will be humor, there will be romance of both het and slash varieties, there will be action and blood and a wedding. And maybe, MAYBE Jack the Monkey, but don't get your hopes up or anything.  And I certainly hope you all can assume who Poor Shoeless Bastard is, but he'll tell us all about his adventures in the next chapter. Also: shout-out to CryingChild for her awesome parody fic, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of Red Bull. It rawks, and no infringement is meant by my mention of the talking hat. ^_^. 

I loff reviews, if you review my story I'll give you candy! ..well, maybe. But I will love you forever, so review. Even if you flame me. Ooh, that's another thing, there's obviously Original Characters in this fic, but I'm trying to keep them as un-Mary Sue as possible. So if I ever start slipping into Suedom, someone please tell me so I can correct the problem. I mean it.  So review! 


	2. Meeting the Pearl

Chapter Two: Meeting the Pearl.

Last time on AFTHPTWTB:

Buncha stuff happened. Some new pirates showed up, and wonder of wonders, the captain's a chick! The pirates picked up a poor shoeless bastard who'd been starving on a tiiiny island, Jack spotted this new ship and decided to capture it and give it to Anamaria as a prezzie. And Norrington got laid, and also very drunk. Woohoo.

And now we return to your regularly scheduled COURSE FOR DISASTER!!!

            On board the as-yet-unnamed pirate ship, the as-yet unnamed crew were going through the pockets of the unconscious and as-yet-unnamed-though-maliciously-nicknamed Poor Shoeless Bastard, whom they'd retrieved from his tiny island. Poor Shoeless Bastard, though none of them knew it at the time, was the spitting image of one Will Turner, blacksmith, only about 35 years old and very unwashed and starving. Think the hypothetical love child of Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen. Anyway. He didn't have much of value in his pockets. There was a cutlass (in his pockets? Eh, sure. Why not. He's got cargoes.), but no cursed pirate medallions or anything like that. No living will, no MedicAlert bracelet, not even a treasure map. Which, incidentally, is what the captain was looking for.  But she didn't find any map, so she was a little pissed off. Or maybe she was just always a little pissed off. Yeah.  Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked here, so back to the story:

            "You there. Poor Shoeless Bastard. Wake up." The captain said, nudging the unconscious man with the toe of her boot. The unconscious man brazenly refused to do so. 

            "Damn you, sir! Damn you straight to Hell," she sighed. "Tim, escort our new friend to my quarters. I'd like to interrogate him. ..and then perhaps make him my bitch."

            "You already have _me_, Captain!" Tim whined.

            "Quiet, Tim," said the captain, waving him away. But just then, stuff happened.

             "Ship approaching, Captain." All heads turned towards where the first mate was pointing. 

            "Hmm. I would like to avoid any extra attention today, _amigos." The captain said, still looking at the ship. "Tim, drag Poor Shoeless Bastard below deck and alert me if he wakes up. The rest of you, raise anchor and get the guns ready in case it comes to blows."_

            "Pickings must be slim in the Caribbean if we're being confronted by another pirate vessel, Captain." The first mate observed. Lievtenant Thom passed by and offered a suggestion.

            "Shall we raise the colours, ma'am?" she snarked, eager for a fight. 

            "No, no I think they would see us as a threat then, maybe." The captain was pensive, even though _technically_ her ship **was a threat to this new one. **

            "Or maybe you've just lost your taste for blood, if you don't mind my saying."

            "I _do_ mind your saying, Lievtenant," said the captain, rubbing her right arm and staring at the sea. "And I find no change in my taste for….blood…" she began scratching the end of her arm, and this would have gone on for some time had not the first mate grabbed said arm and glared at her reproachingly. Also, there was a pleasant distraction in the form of a cannon blast. It missed the ship but, needless to say, scared the bejeezus out of everyone on board. Including the now not-so-unconscious castaway.

            "It's the Pearl!" he gasped, struggling to sit up. "It's the Black Pearl, it is! Rat Bastard Barbossa, I'll kill ye!" he was of course quickly restrained by Tim, though he still made feeble motions toward the Pearl. 

            "Barbossa?" Thom said, looking now in horror at the Pearl. "I've heard that name tossed about before. We'd best not go picking fights with that sort." Her face was pale. 

            "I told you, didn't I?" the captain snapped. 

            "But now we'll have to fight them anyway!" Thom said, annoyed.

            "Barbossa!!" the castaway yelled again in his hoarse voice.

            "Get him BELOW DECK!" the captain bellowed. "Right. Ready the cannons, and raise the bloody flag."

            Meanwhile, there was a fair bit of chaos going on aboard the Black Pearl. Anamaria was in the process of verbally abusing Gibbs for firing off the cannon too early when the illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow staggered below deck to ask what was going on.

            "Whas goin' on, mates?" he asked expositionally. As if that's even a word. 

            "Gibbs took it upon himself to fire on MY SHIP," screeched Anamaria in her best screeching voice. "And he missed."

            "Well I was making ready to fire on your order, Cap'n, but this blasted parrot started attackin' me!" Gibbs protested, pointing upwards. Said parrot was screeching (better than Anamaria, even!) and flying about in circles and generally making a nuisance of itself. Mr. Cotton sighed sadly and shrugged. 

            "It's vitally important to the plot!" the parrot squawked. 

            "So anyways, in all the commotion I fired the cannon to shut the damn thing up." finished Gibbs. 

            "My father's name was Antonio Andolini, and this is for you," said the parrot in a threatening voice. It then shat on Gibbs' head. 

            "Well, at least you missed." Jack pointed out with a limp-wristed flourish as he climbed the stairs to the deck. He then surveyed the scene before him: the target ship was staying out of range, but they had also run their guns out. And raised a flag. 

            "More pirates. _That's_ interesting.." Anamaria murmured as she observed the banner.

            "That's my line, wench." Jack pouted. Although he had to admit, it was an unusual sort of flag. A red wolf's head on a black field, with crossbones beneath. But even more unusual was the greeting being shouted to him by the other ship's captain.

            "Oi! You there! I demand a word!" closer inspection revealed the speaker to be a tall, thin woman with a long black plait if hair. 

            "What?" Jack yelled, intrigued. 

            "Barbossa, you devil-worshipping miscreant! You fired on my ship and it is my duty as a Catholic to put an end to your unholy ways! And I want my bloody map!" the woman seemed quite fired up.

            "Devil-worshipping?" Jack muttered to himself. "That's a new one."

            "I didn't _say_ he worshipped the devil!" a second female voice interrupted. "I SAID he was so evil that Hell itself spat him back out!!"

            "Er…I'm not Barbossa, love!" Jack called across the distance between the ships in his patented placating voice. Or it might have been the seducing voice. There wasn't much difference between the two.  The woman frowned.

            "Look _amigo_, my map was stolen from the island of Tortuga by a Jack Sparrow-" and here Jack got a look on his face that most today would dub 'oh, shit.' "who apperantly was at odds with Barbossa, captain of the Black Pearl. And since word on the street is Barbossa left Sparrow to die, I ask again where my map is! You are the captain of this vessel, correct?"

            "Yes, love. That's right." Jack was hastily forming a plan. "But I only just took over management of the Pearl. Barbossa, I'm afraid, has passed on." He doffed his hat in remembrance. And he also snickered under his breath. 

            "Well what's _your_ name, then?!" the woman was fast growing frustrated. 

            "Turner!" Jack shouted back at her. "William Turner! And I'm sorry, but I haven't seen this map you're talking about, so I'll just be on my way now…"

            "Well, are you sure you haven't seen it? Maybe you looked through his pockets or something?"

            "No, no, sorry I can't help you. First week on the job, and all."

            "Bastard." grumbled the woman. "Well, damn it, you still fired on my ship! I demand an apology or I swear on the Holy Virgin I will destroy you!" she shook her left fist in the air for dramatic effect. 

            "I apologise, dear lady, and swear on my good name that never shall it happen again." Jack took a little bow. The overall effect was quite condescending. 

            "_hombre__ inútil estúpido." The woman muttered. "Well then, we'll both be on our separate ways. I have towns to sack."_

            "And I have rum to drink! What's your name, madam?"

            "Calidori!" she yelled. "Captain of El Lobo Fuerte." Then said ship hastily sped off, as hastily as these things can speed off under good wind conditions. …ships of this kind aren't really all that fast, you know. Aaaand end scene!

            In the rather large and spacious quarters of El Lobo Fuerte, more introductions were taking place. The now-awake Poor Shoeless Bastard had upon questioning revealed his name to be Bootstrap Bill Turner, also known as William. This sent Captain Calidori into a mad rant cursing the name of Turner, and how many damn people in the Caribbean have that name, anyway? After the crazed tirade had ended, Bootstrap then exposited that he'd been cursed by the Aztec gods, and sent to the bottom of the Caribbean by Rat Bastard Barbossa, the Man so Evil that Hell Itself Spat Him Back Out™. 

            "And so it only took about a week for the moonlight to turn me into my true skeletal form, so I ditched my boots and the cannon, and walked as far as I could to that little island, where I've been living for the past ten years. Only now the curse has been lifted, so I must sadly assume Barbossa found my dear son William (again Calidori shouted in unholy rage) and repaid the blood. Oh, woe is me! My poor William!"

            "_Señor, do you have a brother or something with your same name? Maybe, I don't know, a crazy drunk uncle? Because the man captaining the Pearl was not Barbossa and he claimed to _also_ be William Turner."       _

            "Drunk uncle, you say?" replied Bootstrap. "No, never had one of those."

            "Excuse me for a moment," said the captain, and she walked out the door. Once outside, she turned to her Lievtenant. "Thom, you know more about the lore of the Caribbean than I. Is this Poor Shoeless Bastard's story even possible?"

            "Im_probable," replied Lievtenant Thom with a smile. "But given what he said about the curse, ma'am, I think that it definitely could be true. I wonder what happened to the rest of the cursed pirates though, if Barbossa's dead?" _

The captain shrugged and returned to the room. She was met by a rather cheeky question from Poor Shoeless Bastard, who was starting to feel better since he'd been fed. 

            "So where's your hand, then?" asked Bootstrap bluntly. The captain glared at the table for a moment and ground her teeth. 

            "Well Mr. Turner," she said evenly. "It is most likely in Morocco where I left it, though I rather expect that it's been pickled, dried, ground into a powder, and is now being sold on the black market as a cure for impotence. Any more questions?"

            "No, miss." Bootstrap replied in a meek tone.

            Meanwhile in Port Royal, the formerly cursed pirates who formerly made up the crew of the Black Pearl were all being shot to death by a firing squad. This was of course against usual protocol for the execution of pirates, but Norrington had a massive headache. He was also in a hurry to plan how to deal with the new pirate threat. Governor Swann was persuaded to stop crying long enough to witness the executions, and then he promptly went back to his mansion and sulked. Also sulking was a young Lievtenant named Wilkins, who poked at the former-zombie pirate bodies despondently with his rifle. He really wished he'd been a part of the action-packed battle against the pirates, but nooo. He was left out, possibly because he hadn't slept his way into the Commodore's good graces yet.  But that doesn't really matter at this point! Not at all!

            So anyway, after all the executing was over with Norrington decided to de-stress by having MAD SEX with one of his trusted Lievtenants. I don't know which one. It was either Gillette or that one guy who kinda looked like Guy Pearce, so take your pick. Yeah. And Giselle the Hooker, who had hung around but didn't care to watch the slashy goings-on, was meanwhile skulking about the Commodore's house and stealing all the nice silver. 

*******

Notes: Whookay, really anticlimactic ending for the chapter there, eh? I kinda hate this chapter since nothing very interesting goes on except more exposition. Yay for exposition!  I promise more fun stuff in the next chapter. There's shooting! And even _more stupid references to Robert DeNiro movies. ^_^. _

Just to clarify: yes, Lievtenant Thom is a girl, and Captain Calidori is missing her right hand. That'll be explained more later. 


	3. Dodging Bullets

Chapter Three: Dodging Bullets.

This chapter brought to you by my wonderful slash muses, Dickie Greenleaf and Peter Smith-Kingsley.

Dickie: Why am _I_ a slash muse?! I'm not gay! I'm NOT!

Peter: *sniff* I need a hug.

August: Aw, there there, hon.

Dickie: I hate you and your stupid story! Where's Tom, I'm gonna kill him! *brandishes oar*

August: already taken care of, sweetums. *points to trunk of Lincoln Town Car*

All: …..o_O.

Dickie: fine, I'm going to the jazz festival. *leaves*

Peter: *sigh* August doesn't own anything, please don't sue her. She gives me hugs. *cries* what did I do to deserve this?!

August: uhm….yeah. On to the story! *to Peter* let's go watch Queer as Folk, kiddo.

************

Previously on the show..fanfic…thingy….

It was established that Captain Calidori is a harsh, scary woman. Jack initiated yet another case of mistaken identity, Bootstrap expositioned, Anamaria screeched, Lievtenant Thom was cheeky, the First Mate still didn't have a name, Wilkins was sad, Norrington was slashy, and Giselle was a klepto. 

So, picking up slightly (and conveniently) later than when we left off, El Lobo Fuerte was hovering just outside of Port Royal. Not hovering literally, because then this would be like Peter Pan or something. It is Peter Pan with the floating pirate ship at the end, right? Or am I just going insane? So anyway, the Lobo (as it shall henceforth be known) was hovering. The as-yet-unnamed first mate was on deck, doing official administrative stuff. Like, getting Tim to order more toner for the copier and screening caterers for the HR presentation. Only in a more piratey kind of way. Yeah. She was doing said administration because the captain had gone ashore to scout the area. You know, really sneaky shit, checking out the military defenses, trying to recruit more crew members, buy some groceries, that sort of thing. Bootstrap was even sneakier in that he went ashore sneakily and without asking, even though Calidori had ordered him to stay on the ship. Cause Jamaica isn't safe for recently rescued former undead skeletal pirates. Yeah. 

Bootstrap strolled along one of the main thoroughfares, delighting in all the sights and sounds of civilization. And also his new boots. Truth be told, he was a bit disoriented, like in that essay by Plato about the Cave? And the people who've been in the cave so long they think the shadows on the wall are reality, and then they go into the light and are all 'Whoa!' in a Keanu Reeves voice? Yeah, _that_ essay. Bootstrap was so wonderfully disoriented, as a matter of fact, that he plowed straight into a lady walking along the street. And considering how the lady in question was none other than Giselle the Hooker, maybe 'plowed straight into' wasn't the best figure of speech to use. Er…I'll just leave you with _that_ mental image and continue on, alright? Eheh. 

"Bill?" said Giselle, looking up at him. Only she's a stereotypical French chick, so it sounded more like 'Beeel?' "Bootsrrrap Beel? Is zat you?"

"Giselle!" cried Bootstrap, laughing. The audience paused in mute horror, trying to figure out just how old Giselle actually _is_. "My god, it's been a long time!" and then Giselle slapped him, because that's always a funny gag and what's fanfiction without overused jokes from the movie?

"What was that for?" Bootstrap asked angrily. "You're a wh-" Giselle glared at him "…courtesan! It's not like I left you destitute and with child, or any horrible thing like that."

"Well, actually..." Giselle began, but was interrupted by Norrington slurring drunkenly for her to wait and hear him out.

"He means nothing to me, I swear!" but Giselle only got all huffy and turned away.

"What's going on?" Bootstrap asked, looking warily at the disheveled officer. Long story short, Lievtenant Gillette had gotten Norrington drunk (again) and the Commodore had asked Giselle if she was up for a threesome. And apparently Giselle took offense at this, even though SHE'S A FREAKING WHORE, and has absolutely no reason to take offense at propositions or slap Jack Sparrow for sleeping with ANOTHER WHORE, and what the hell is Disney's problem, anyway? Damn you, Disney! Make sense!! …unlike this crazed rant.

"Perhaps we could discuss this at a later time, mates," Bootstrap suggested. "It is after all getting late, and the lady and I have some catching up to do."

"Damn rright you do, Beel." Giselle sulked. "You still owe me from last time." Thunder rumbled ominously overhead.

"No, I bloody well want to discuss it NOW!" said Norrington, coming dangerously close to acting like a three-year-old. Bootstrap took Giselle by the arm and began walking towards the docks. "Hey, come back!" the Commodore followed angrily. 

Meanwhile, a heated debate was taking place on the docks, the result of Calidori's effort to find new crew members. Let's just say able-bodied buccaneers were in short supply in Port Royal, because she was left with a fancy wench in a corset, and a young blacksmith with an extremely stupid hat. The couple wanted to treat the deal like a pleasure cruise, as they were in the process of eloping. Calidori couldn't care less, and was trying to get rid of them. It started raining, increasing the need to get going.

"Well, do you have any _money_, amigos?" she said rather snidely to the young couple. The three of them were standing on the dock. The argument was as follows:

The young couple apperantly wanted passage on the Spanish woman's ship, which she was reluctant to give them. 

"Look, you _are_ a pirate, aren't you?" the young man asked. There was something about his face that gave the woman pause.

"What I am is none of your business, mister….?" And she turned her head inquiringly.

"Turner." He said gruffly. "Will Turner."

"O-_ho_." She said, frowning. "Perhaps we have business together, after all." 

"Excuse me," said the young lady who was far too well-dressed to be associating with the young man. "But all we want is passage off the island, no questions asked. We'll pay you well."

"I'm sure you will, miss. Let me guess, young lovers?" she smiled again. "Running off to elope?"

"I _said no questions asked." The girl interrupted, her voice getting that haughty tone which one is trained to use from an early age in order to get results. _

"Not that you're in a position to argue…" the woman muttered. "Well, I suppose if I'm starting a passenger cruise I'll need your name as well, miss."

"Swann." She said coldly, looking the woman directly in the eye. "Elizabeth Swann."

"Any bags with you?" Calidori asked in mock servility, looking around the docks. There was more activity now, despite the late hour. And too much of that activity was from naval officers to be to her liking. 

"Will, could you run back and get my bag?" the young lady asked, but the pair was already being pushed towards the end of the dock. 

It was a short trip in the rowboat back to the ship, which was flying the Spanish flag so as not to attract attention. This plan however was failing spectacularly, as the authorities had already been alerted to the threat. 

"What's going on, captain?" Thom asked. The captain growled.

"Get those two below deck and weigh anchor! We are going to have company of the most unwanted sort."

"This is hardly a replacement crew, ma'am." Thom gestured to Will and Elizabeth, who were standing around looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Only this was before the advent of headlights.

"Quite right, Lievtenant, but if we ransom off the Governor's daughter I suppose we'll be able to buy a better crew. Only we'll have to escape first."

"Our Poor Shoeless Bastard isn't back yet, captain." The first mate said calmly.

"WHAT?!" Calidori yelled, her eyes narrowing. Several dock workers turned towards the ship to observe this outburst. Pulling out her spyglass, she caught sight of Bootstrap running along the dock, a flouncing woman in tow. "_maldígalo_," the captain muttered. Bootstrap jumped into an unoccupied dinghy, but he and his lady friend were shortly joined by a wailing bluecoat. 

"GISELLE!!!" said officer cried in a most pathetic manner. Bootstrap looked confused as to what he should do.

"Dammit Turner, just take him with you! We don't have _time for this!!" _

Hearing that name Will turned from his position on the stair and started towards the deck. He was promptly stopped by a pistol aimed at his face.

"I _said get below deck, __amigo." The captain hissed. Faced with the threat of a gun-toting woman's wrath, Will made the smart decision for once and got out of the way. "Are we ready to sail, Tim?"_

"As soon as our guests get on board, ma'am."

No sooner was this achieved when the HMS Dauntless began to move out of port towards them. This presented a challenge of a most stressful nature. El Lobo Fuerte could easily outrun the Dauntless, but with what was looking like two high profile passengers any voyage undertaken would be fraught with obstacles. The captain sighed wearily, as stressed folk have sighed since times of yore. Then without further hesitation she ran up and grabbed the bluecoat about the neck, holding the pistol to his head.

"You limeys come any further and the Admiral here gets it!" she yelled to the crew of the approaching vessel.

"Ees a Commodore, actually." Bootstrap's lady friend pointed out.

"Oh, well isn't that splendid. I suppose you might never make it to Admiral then, eh _señor_?"

"Unhand me, madam!" the Commodore spluttered. 

This would-be Mexican standoff would have gone on indefinitely, had not one officer fired off a round in a fit of rage. The shot pierced her side, causing her to tumble backwards to the deck. However the captain had the sense to drag the hostage down with her, so that a second shot left a smoking hole in the Commodore's hat.

"Damn it, Wilks!" Gillette yelled in shock from aboard the Dauntless. He did not have the opportunity to hear the Lievtenant in question reply 'It's Wilkins, sir,' because he had gone absolutely numb at the apparent death of his sweetums. And the Commodore of course didn't hear any of it, because his captor had disposed of her weapon and was now holding him down and beating him about the head with the bony stump of her right arm.

"English naval bastards!" she shrieked, not stopping her onslaught. "Auhhghh!!"

"Madam-ow! Stop bleeding on my coat, woman!" he shoved her off roughly and made to get off the ship. However he slipped on the deck in all the rain, and was of course stopped by Tim. 

"But him in the brig, Tim," the captain groaned. "In fact, but them all in the brig. Shoeless Bastard too!" she left of the 'Poor' part because with a gunshot wound, she was feeling rather uncharitable. The ship was making steady headway out of port, and her captain was lying prone on the deck, bleeding and shouting obscenities.

"Smike!" she yelled. The first mate peered around the corner. 

"What-oh my god."

"Take the helm! And tell Thom to run out the cannons!"

"What can I do?" Bootstrap asked, looking all concerned and such.

"NO! You! Brig! Now!" But her protests fell on deaf ears, as Bootstrap was already examining her.

"Well, it looks like you've still got the bullet in ya, lass."

"STOP TOUCHING ME!!" she shrieked. The bleeding increased. 

"Well, this is rather important-"

"STOP IT!"

"Are you giving the lady trouble?" asked Tim in a threatening voice, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He was carrying a semiconscious Commodore over one shoulder. Tim's freakishly strong like that. 

"No!" said Bootstrap, strained. "I'm trying to get the bullet out!" meanwhile, Calidori was going pale but still managed to shout out orders. She was brought to her quarters and a couple small mirrors were fetched. And here's where the nasty part happens.

"Damn it..." she muttered, going a little green. "Don't we have some smaller forceps? Somewhere?" Calidori was, with the aid of said mirrors, digging around in her abdomen for the bullet. Like in Ronin, only Jean Reno wasn't there. Instead, Tim, Bootstrap, and Smike the First Mate hovered over her, making appropriately grossed out faces. Norrington was slumped over in a corner, bleeding slightly from the temple. 

"Honestly lass, if you'd just let me do this..." Bootstrap offered.

"No! I can to this…myself…." but she was having little luck. "Damn it, I can't work left-handed!" the captain was now bordering on hysterical. "Fine, Shoeless Bastard. Go ahead, I don't…care…" and thus she fainted. The bullet was removed without further ER-like tension, but it turned out Bootstrap Bill wasn't very good at sewing up wounds. And he was rather unclean, so it now looked like Calidori would be dealing with an infection. The first mate slapped Norrington across the face.

"You. Bluecoat. You awake?" she asked gruffly. 

"I-yes. What do you want? And who are you, madam?"

"Smike McMerlin, the White Dragon of Sussex. Perhaps you've heard of me."

"No..." Norrington frowned. Pirates these days were getting more and more overdramatic.

"Damn. Well, are you any good at field surgery? You look like you've got pretty girly hands."

"Well actually y-hey! My hands are not girly!" this would-be catfight (yes, a catfight. Just imagine it, won't you?) was interrupted by the Voice of Reason, in this case Tim.

"Someone just sew her up before she bleeds to death, here," he snapped. 

"I absolutely refuse to aid a pirate," said Norrington, crossing his arms and pouting like a determined toddler. And then Smike leveled her pistol at his head. "Oh, well in _that case..." he grumbled, and got to his feet._

"You've got to pick your battles, mate," said Bootstrap, clapping him on the back.

"I really hate you people." Norrington said with a scowl as he got to work. 

************

Notes: hello all! Well, I must say this chapter is actually quite a bit longer than what you see here. I've had to split it into two parts, sorry! Didn't want to make it all novel-y or whatnot. So yeah, there's much awkward reunion-ing to come. Yesh. Shout outs, of course, to everybody at Norrington Defense League, for being such awesome peeps. ^_^. More shout-outs to my slash muses. ^_^. Hopefully I can write better proper slash, when the time comes. No shout-outs to Matt Damon, who is a mean, mean horrible person for killing poor pretty people. _. Bad. Yeah. Apologies for the lack of Hitchhiker's Guide references in this chapter. ^_^.

And on to thanking the reviewers! Yay!

molly foofoo-pants: I love you too! Dude, I need that list. Email it to me or something! 

Daroga's Rainy Daae: I always like being praised on my style. You get brownie points! Or just brownies! Woot!

Gambit Gurl Isis: yeah, I was going for kind of a Monty Python feel there, glad you liked it. ^_^. And Jack would be hilarious. He and Zaphod would get totally smashed. *lol* 

wicked-angel3: well, you'll just have to keep reading to find out!

Jehan's Muse: Word. Now I hafta go rent Edward Scissorhands again, because I dunno if I remember Esmerelda…Thom is a girl, based on one of my good friends, in fact. And if there were a sexy gay guy on the ship, it'd be Kyan. Or Ted. Or Jailbait Jai. ^_^. Yes, poor Wilkins indeed. *lol*

Lievtenant thom (no, i totally swear to god) : Again, you come up with the best ideas! ..and that's SO true. Heh. Sunk her ship, indeed.. Anamaria is SO annoying to write.

Laerupeth: ooh! Points! Do I get to use them to buy sexy boys? Or candy? Or both? And I break the fourth wall a lot. I just admit it. ^_^.

Elske: Yay for slash! ..well, not so much in this chapter, but there is angsty grief and whatnot. Cause now Gillette thinks Norrington's deceased. ^_^. 

Kumagorou: What's with the porkbellies?? And yesh, there will be Jack/Will in this fic. Elizabeth…I've a different fate for her. *evil laughter*

Raya: yay for talking hats! And of course what parody named after 'Funny Thing Happened on the way to the Forum' would be complete without mistaken identity?

Daroga's Rainy Daae: ooh, more style compliments! *bakes a whole mess of brownies* squee! I'm glad you like it! Hey, quote #2 isn't random! It's from The Godfather, Part II. Seriously. Holy cats, I'm a comic genius?! Do I have to send money to your Swiss bank account now, or what? I can't _buy_ praise that good!

Jai: All Hail TIM, the Dolphin Lord! (which, to anyone confused, is an inside joke gone horribly wrong.)

And remember to review! It makes me squee with childish delight! And I'll make sure to comment on your reviews, because I CARE. Or something like that. I'm a review whore. 

Peter: truer words were never spoken. 

August: hush. : P Review! Yay!


	4. Reunions and Revelations

Chapter Four: Reunions and Revelations.

**Peter**: Okay, August only owns Captain Calidori and Tim. Calidori owns El Lobo Fuerte, Smike and Thom own themselves and are used with permission. So please don't sue her for use of POTC and its characters.

**Dickie**: There's some slash in this chapter, but no hot sex. …and I was _so looking forward to it. *leers*_

**Peter**: No means no, Dickie.

**Dickie**: But we're both so pretty!!

**August**: *pops in* Luca Brasi sleeps with the- I mean, uh, I took care of that..thing..I had to take care..of..yeah.

**Dickie**: so _Leon took care of it, you mean._

**August**: well, I had to buy him a shitload of milk, so it's not like I did nothing. Eh. onwards, slashy muses! Onwards to the previouslys!!

Previously on AFTHOTWTB:

Bootstrap got new boots, Will and Elizabeth wanted to get married, Norrington got drunk again and then held hostage, Giselle got offended for no good reason, Wilkins got a bit trigger-happy and subsequently Norrington's hat got killed, leading Gillette to get crazy and grieving, Tim got freakishly strong, Jack Sparrow did not get mentioned, Calidori got shot, the plot got ER-ified, Smike got to slap the Commodore (…good lord, that sounds dirty) and all the Canonicals got thrown in the brig.

 …ON WITH THE SHOW!!!

It was a decidedly awkward moment. The five of them stood staring at each other in a small cramped cell. Norrington, trained in etiquette and reader of _The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Aristocrats, initiated a conversation. _

            "You look well, Elizabeth," he said, inclining his head a bit.

            "Thank you, Commodore," Elizabeth replied genially. Her boy toy glared.

            "Hey, don't go getting any ideas, she's _mine_ now!" said Will in a threatening voice. 

            "Will, don't be silly. He didn't mean anything by it."

            "A threat, eh? I'm sure you're much more imposing without your absurd hat, Turner." Norrington sneered. 

            "I was about to say the same to you!" Will yelled. At this point, the argument stopped as Bootstrap hugged Will violently. 

            "William? My boy, it _is_ you!!" he cried joyfully. And while everyone else stood about in confusion, father and son were reunited in an extremely sappy display. You know what? Just imagine that one scene from _A Knight's Tale_; you'll get the gist of it.

            Having explained his situation to his son, Bootstrap turned to leer at Elizabeth.

            "Bill Turner at your service, lass," ha said, kissing her hand. Norrington and Giselle rolled their eyes.

            "Daaad! She's my _fiancée_!!" Will yelled. He does that a lot.

            "Sorry, son. It's just been a while since I've had the pleasure of a woman's company."

            "What about me?" Giselle demanded.

            "I refuse to listen to this. Hey!" Norrington shouted at the nearest guard. He was a rather pudgy individual. "You there! I wish to speak with the captain."

            "She's left orders, she's not to be disturbed," replied the guard. 

            "I know, I know. I need to check the wound for infection, you fool."

            "Oh, well in that case," the guard complied. He unlocked the cell and led Norrington to the captain's quarters, humming a dramatic tune all the while. The guard, not Norrington. He'd never be caught humming anything of the sort.

            Once inside the Commodore was greeted by an angry Lievtenant Thom. 

            "What the hell are you doing here?"

            "Good lord, is every officer on this ship an Amazon pirate?" said Norrington, pointing out the clichéd plot hole. 

            "Idiot," sneered Thom. "I'm not an Amazon; I've got both my breasts. Should have thought _that_ was obvious." Which was true, since Lievtenant Thom was rather on the busty side. To put it nicely.

            "You are without a doubt the crassest woman I have ever met, with the possible exception of your insane captain."

            "Why thank you," said Thom.

            "Who, by the way, I need to check up on. Her wound could be infected."

            "Nooo." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. 

            "Do you have any leeches? That would help."

            "No leeches, you bastard," said the captain, sitting up. "The Arabs may be damned infidels, but you English could stand to learn from their skills with medicine." She glared at nothing in particular.

            "Yes, like when they-" Thom paused. "…when you lost your hand, they cauterized it so you wouldn't bleed to death."

            "Lot of good that did me," Calidori muttered.

            "Excuse me, might I just-" said Norrington, checking the bandage. Calidori shrieked and jerked away from his touch. "For God's sake woman, I am trying to help you!"

            "Get away from me," said the captain in a quiet and dangerous voice. Before anyone came to blows, an angsty baritone voice drifted through the door.

            "From the table…iiin the corner…they could see a world Rebo~orn! And They Rose, With VOI-"

            "MR. PONTMERCY!" Calidori yelled, all medical paranoia forgotten. The pudgy guard peeked around the door. "If I ever hear you singing on while on duty again, I shall have you castrated!"

            "She'll do it, too. Make no mistake." Thom said gravely. The guard vanished, making a squeaking noise.

            Meanwhile in Port Royal, the mood was one of somber dignity as Lievtenant John Wilkins was court-martialed and dishonourably discharged for the accidental manslaughter of Commodore Norrington. Wilkins cursed himself under his breath, and his commanding officers did nothing to make him look less of a prat. Gillette had wanted Wilkins to be summarily shot, but Governor Swann thought that maybe that was a bit too excessive, and he understands you're upset, Lievtenant, but Norrington would want his first officer to buck up and carry on with dignity, and perhaps stop crying so loudly, Gillette. Wilkins was of course grateful that he wasn't marked for death, but in true Office Space tradition he stole something. And not in the 'I think we _all stole a little something' way. No, Wilkins stole something else. As our ostracized friend left for Kingston on the next ferry, Gillette was having a meeting in his new office. It wasn't Norrington's old office, because Gillette wasn't able to be in the room without bawling like an infant. However, his promotion to captain was helping him cope._

            "Alexandre-"

            "You'll address me as Captain now, Lievtenant Pearce," Gillette said numbly.

            "Sorry, _sir," replied Pearce, glowering at the desk in an apparent attempt to set it on fire with laser death vision. "I was just going to ask if you were certain about this plan."_

            "Lievtenant, I am perfectly certain. The _Alecto_ is arriving from the shipyard in Antigua in two days time, and I shall use her to hunt down the pirates we met earlier. Is that clear?"

            "Perfectly, sir." Pearce was still glowering, but Gillette didn't notice at all. "I merely wondered if you'd prefer to stay in Port Royal; I'd be honored to take _Alecto_ out looking for the pirates."

            "No, Lievtenant. You'll be my first officer aboard the _Alecto_, and Captain Boone will temporarily take over my duties on the _Dauntless and command the fort."_

            "As you wish, sir," said Pearce. And not like in The Princess Bride. Gillette waved his hand in dismissal and had the fortitude to wait until he heard the door close before he started crying again. 

            Gillette did not weep noisily; he was adept at masking his emotions, which caused some of the younger officers to view him as snide and ill-tempered. He would have loved to handle the occasion with decorum, or at the very least take it out on his underlings. But no; this loss, this pain was too much. And so he wept, silent and staring wide-eyed into space as his body shook with sobs. A knock at the door brought this display to an abrupt end. Gillette composed himself and though he looked perhaps more pale than usual, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

            "Sir, I've a message from Captain Boone. He's just been down to the stables, and it seems there's been a disturbance." The young officer looked terrified, perhaps more an instinctive reaction to intruding. 

            "Fletcher, you may go back to the stables and tell Captain Boone that another shipment of grain will be arriving in two day's time, and there is no need for him to panic." Gillette sighed. His voice carried none of its usual snark.

            "No sir, the Captain thinks one of the horses has been stolen. None of the stable hands can find Achilles, or any of his tack, sir. Captain Boone just thought you ought to be alterted, sir," young Fletcher flinched at the tic Gillette was developing by his left eye.

            The new captain set his belongings in order and headed for the stables straightaway, the rage inside him threatening to spill over.

            Meanwhile, _El Lobo Fuerte was awash with anxiety. Her captain stared intently at the impromptu physician. _

            "Well," said Norrington, frowning. 

            "Madre de Dios," muttered Calidori, going pale.

            "Oh, don't worry, there's no infection," the Commodore clarified. Calidori glared at him. "But I'll have you know that once we get back to Port Royal I shall have you and your crew hanged for piracy, so it wouldn't matter if the would were infected anyway."

            "I'm afraid we're not going back to Port Royal, _señor. I am not about to be hanged for crimes I did not commit. I, sir, am a _privateer_." She opened a drawer on her desk and produced an appropriate Letter of Marque._

            "The hell you are!" Norrington yelled, losing his composure. "You've kidnapped not only myself, but the daughter of the governor of Jamaica!"

            "And all in the glorious name of Spain," said Calidori, her eyes going all misty with patriotism. Lievtenant Thom snickered at Norrington, who looked as if he had just swallowed a live tuna.

            "Listen, could you just take me back to Port Royal? I have urgent business to attend to!"

            "And does this business pertain to having us hanged?" asked Thom, raising an eyebrow.

            "Well, that too, but…" he adopted his usual authoritative tone. "Madam, I am currently hunting down the pirate Jack Sparrow, captain of the _Black Pearl. The nature of this mission necessitates my command of the HMS _Dauntless_, which, as you know, is in Port Royal. Ergo-"_

            "Actually you're not currently doing anything of the sort," Calidori laughed, then paused and her eyes went wide. "Wait, did you say Jack Sparrow?"

            "Yes, he escaped military custody not three days ago, and is now, I must assume, gaining ever more headway. The Pearl may be worse for wear, but it is still quite fast." 

At this point the captain had developed what is known in contemporary circles at the Psychotic Eye Twitch™, the signature look of people who suddenly and unpleasantly realize they've just been royally screwed.

"And where-where do you suppose Jack Sparrow is headed, _señor_?" said Calidori through gritted teeth. 

"Oh I daresay the young couple you have down in the brig would know more about it than I. They're his steadfast allies." Norrington said, his voice full of venom and sadness.

"Lievtenant," the captain began. "Tell Smike to prepare for a change of course. Make sure our guns are in top condition, and that we have plenty of ammunition. Once we set a course, we are not putting in to port at any cost, you hear me?"

"Aye, captain," Thom replied, grinning like a madwoman.

"PONTMERCY!" Calidori bellowed. 

"Yes?" the guard squeaked, frightened out of his wits.

"Bring up the Miss Swann and young Mister Turner," she said in a silky voice. Her eyes glinted in anger. "I would like to have a chat with them about their choice of friends."

"What about the Commodore, Captain?" Mr. Pontmercy asked.

"Oh, let's keelhaul him, eh?" she said jovially. Norrington went white as a sheet. "Just kidding, _amigo. No worries, eh? Just take him back to the brig, Pontmercy. And perhaps fetch another pitcher of water." She turned to address Norrington. "Impending slaughter always makes me __terribly thirsty, you know."_

*******************

Author's note: haha, it is done! And for all you history buffs, I am indeed aware that HMS _Alecto was a 19th century steam-powered warship. I just really liked the name. Regarding characterization: Lt. Pearce is the surly, power-hungry bitch, Captain Boone has yet to be seen but is essentially a good guy, Wilkins is loveable and crafty and self-abusive. And I'm hoping my Gillette isn't too OOC. (his name is Alexandre!) Mr. Pontmercy is here solely to be verbally abused, since I loff doing that to characters. I don't own him, either. ^_^. And Gillette has been made captain of the __Dauntless, but he's taking command of the __Alecto, which is mucho faster, in order to expedite the revenge pirate-killing. Just so you know._

And now for the review commentary! Yaaay! So please review, I'll say funny things to you and give you cookies and/or sexy boys.

Jehan's Muse: yes, Jailbait Jai. It is the spiffiest nickname. And he is adorable. Dude, you never elaborated on the Snuggly-Poo thing. (that is a great name, btw. You know, since Javert owns the rights to the use of Snookums.) Explain! Now!! …and no, I bludgeoned him to death in another fanfic, but here we can assume I had him gunned down in a tollbooth by Jean Reno.

Elske: No Dr. Gray, I had a teacher named Fels, and she looked just like Reese Witherspoon. Heh. Just wait until I bust out with the Lost Generation or the English Romantics. As you requested, here's more Gillette. He's angsty, go give him a hug. 

Gambit Gurl Isis: yesh, the rants are some of my favorite parts. ..well, there wasn't much ranting in this chapter, sorry. But yeah, Giselle is totally Fleur, I thought that the first time I saw the movie. Ooh, HP pirates! Awesome! Crossover-tastic!! *imagines pirate Draco* ooohhh….nummy.

The Phantom Parisienne: Glad you like it! ..some of the plot just spontaneously jumps out of my head, some of it requires crazy amounts of research and pondering. Sorry I didn't finish this chapter sooner.

Daroga's Rainy Daae: ooh, you like the shooting! Awesome! Because that was really my first big attempt  at writing action sequences, and I was worried about how the pacing and stuff would turn out. Thank you so much! I love you!! 

Smike: suuup, girl? How are ya? (stupid question, I know you in RL.) Ronin rocks in the most rockikng awesome way. Car chases! DeNiro! Jean Reno! Sean freaking Bean! Car chases! 

Kumagorou: see, I only took a year of Japanese in high school and I have no idea what 'porkbellies' is in that language. Yeah, not much of the slash in this chapter, either. The keyword for this fic is "Eventually." Wow, I'm your new best friend? Amazing.  And Elizabeth…well, that's a secret. Let's just say it involves an Indiana Jones reference. ^_^.


	5. La Muerta Revisited

Chapter Five: La Muerta Revisited.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Pirates of the Caribbean_, any of its characters or situations, and no offense of infringement is intended. I also do not own any movies, books, songs, people, etc. I may reference in this work. I only own my original characters. So don't sue me. And unfortunately Peter's not doing the disclaimer today, as he is on loan to the Norrington Defense League. Which I also do not own.

And before I start this party, I have a public service announcement: What the hell is up with Suedom these days? There's all these goddamn 'choose your own adventure' fics going around! Like: "This is NOT a Mary-sue! YOU get magically transported to the Caribbean and YOU go on an adventure aboard the Black Pearl and Jack Sparrow and Orli fall in love with YOU! Plz  r/r NO FLAMES!!! Jonny depp is so HOTT!" 

            What the fuck is this shit? It's just…crap! Like people are trying to avoid having their characters called Mary-Sues by pretending it's the 'audience' experiencing the plot. That's such crap! I mean, on some level the Suedom authors have developed another method for evading flames and 'justifying' their Mary-Sues, but really, it's like they're dispensed with all pretense and are saying: "Hey! I'm going to write some fanservice! You can all join in as I make myself feel better!" fucking plebes. *growls* they're ruining the fandom for us normal people who enjoy writing to develop character! GAH! Make it STOP!!! …anyway. I've spoken my mind. And if you're one of those "You" fic authors: flame me, I don't bloody care. 

Previously on _Buffy the-Wait. No. Previously on AFTHOTWTB:_

Conversations were awkward, Bootstrap was a lech, Norrington was a doctor, Thom was not an Amazon but she _was_ rather crass, Calidori was afraid of medical treatment, Marius was about to be castrated, Gillette was angsty and his first name was Alexandre, Pearce was attempting to acquire Laser Death Vision™, Calidori was disturbingly patriotic, and then Jack Sparrow was revealed to be the captain of the Black Pearl, and Calidori was subsequently pissed as all hell and on a bloodthirsty rampage.

*******

            The wind had died down for the moment, as if the island was welcoming them. Jack smiled, and examined the torn scrap of parchment he held in his hand. Funny how Isla de Muerta didn't seem so imposing now. The gods, it seemed, were quite content to allow their cursed island to be used at the Pearl's long-term storage facility.  Jack liked to think that he and the heathen gods had a good professional relationship. Yes, the island was a place to bury secrets; that Calidori woman would never find the map, and Jack had plenty of time to find the other half.

            "Beggin yer pardon, Cap'n," grumbled Gibbs in his usual wary tone. "But it's frightful bad luck to be makin' berth on such an island. Cursed, it is!" Jack flashed him a gold-toothed grin.

            "Don't think on it a minute, Mr. Gibbs. After all, it's not Aztec gold we're after."

            "But th' heathen gods-"

            "Ah, quit your whining, you old dog!" Anamaria screeched, appearing suddenly behind him. Gibbs winced in pain and staggered away to regain hearing. "Why _are_ we coming here, Jack?" she asked more softly.

            "Because it's the perfect hiding spot, beauty," Jack replied, looking at the approaching island. "No one can find it except those as have been here, and know where it is."

            "What about those two brats, then? They've been here, could they find it?" Anamaria raised an eyebrow. 

            "Well love, I'm afraid to say that our young Will probably couldn't navigate his way out of a paper bag. Him and Liz are good kids though, they'd never sell out ol' Jack." He smiled again, secure in the knowledge of his secrecy.

Meanwhile…

            "Isla de Muerta." Elizabeth said frostily. "If Jack wanted to hide anything, he'd hide it there. Frightful place." She glared at Calidori, who was holding Will at gunpoint to facilitate discussion. "No one can find it except people who've been there before."

            "Lovely!" Calidori exclaimed. "You'll do us the honour of telling us, then."

            "I can't find it," said Elizabeth, exasperated. "Barbossa's crew had me blindfolded!"

            "And what about you, boy?" asked Calidori. "Care to show us to the island?"

            "I'll never tell you!" Will spat, looking overall quite noble and put-upon. Calidori shrugged, and snapped her fingers. In an instant Smike had her pistol at Elizabeth's head.

            "What about now, eh _amigo_?"

            "Captain Calidori, I really must object to your treatment of Miss Swann!" said Norrington angrily. "This is no way to treat a lady of her standing."

            "Thank you for your defense, James," Elizabeth said absently. "But I don't think you're helping matters."

            "Hey! Since when are you two on a first-name basis?!" Will yelled. Calidori rolled her eyes.

            "Well we were _engaged_ at one point, Will. You remember that, _don't you_?" Elizabeth was in danger of freezing the entire cabin, so chilly was her attitude. 

            "As much as I love a good domestic squabble, my friends, I need to know how to get to Isla de Muerta, and I need to know it now!" Calidori was looking quite irate and dangerous. She glared around the room. 

            "So is it true Jack Sparrow can charm women out of their clothing?" Smike asked Elizabeth conspiratorially. 

            "Hardly," Elizabeth glowered. 

*******

Jack Sparrow wasn't currently charming anyone out of anything, as the crew had arrived in the storage cave of Isla de Muerta and was greeted by the horrible stench of rotting flesh. Not merely unclean flesh, or undead rotting flesh, but your everyday dead, maggot-covered decaying human corpse. And also one strategically placed rotting apple. So while the crew members not important enough to have dialogue disposed of the body (which was difficult without any pigs around), Jack took the opportunity to exposition some more. 

"Gibbs, my good man," said Jack, sitting down upon a pile of treasure. "How exactly does a man who's deathly afraid of pirates end up becoming one?"

"If you're tryin' to distract yourself from that stench, Cap'n, I'm afraid my storytelling won't help any." Gibbs muttered with a handkerchief over his face. At this point the dwarf stumbled over pile of trinkets and dropped his end of the body. An unidentifiable limb dropped off into the water with a sickening –SHUNK-. Anamaria, who was overseeing the proceedings, proceeded to turn away and empty her gut upon one of the piles of booty.

"Not on the gold, love!" Jack yelled, cringing. "Brings a tear to me eye, it does. Gibbs! On with the story."

"Well…." Gibbs obviously did not want to tell this tale, but the look in Jack's kohl-lined eyes was adamant. "Well really it started when I was still on me tour aboard the _Dauntless, oh about...eight year ago? Yeah, that was it. "_

"Really, Gibbs?"

"Of course!" he shuddered. "A man got no reason to invent a tale like this. Ungodly it were, what I saw."

"What was it?!" shrieked Anamaria, who had taken a well-needed break from the disposal crew.

"Well," Said Gibbs, steeling himself. "There was this one day I walked into the Lievtenant's office, so as to give him the damage report from that merchant ship we'd found, and-oh, it's too horrible Jack, I can't say!"

"Of course you can, you sea slug!" Anamaria's shrieks conveyed her intense interest in the tale. Or else maybe she was just pissed off. "What did you see?"

"It was the Lievtenant…and-and one of the midshipmen….scarred me for life, it did!" and Gibbs broke down into sobs.

"Wait, which Lievtenant?" Jack asked, interested. 

"Well Norrington, Cap'n. But I don't see how it matters."

"Who was he with? Gillette?" 

"**I don't want to talk about it!!"**

********

            "Well Mr. Turner, I'm afraid we've a bit of a dilemma." Calidori smiled sadly.

            "What is it, love?" Bootstrap asked. He could never stand seeing a lady look sad. Calidori passed him a mug of grog, and sighed.

            "You see, I'm trying to find someone, who I believe is an acquaintance of yours. Name of Jack Sparrow."

Bootstrap's eyes went wide and he spat the mouthful of grog across the room. It hit Mr. Pontmercy in the face, causing the pudgy man to burst into tears and run out, wailing like a little girl.

            "Did you say _Jack Sparrow_?" Bootstrap asked, tears in his eyes. His voice was quavering the quaver of tragic lost love that maybe isn't so lost after all. You know, like they have on those movies on Lifetime, when the mom gets her kid back from the terrorists or the pets come home after journeying across the country even though the one dog was all old and stuff? Yeah. Like that. "Jack's _alive_?!"

            "Well yes, Mr. Turner. According to your son's…_charming…fiancée Mr. Sparrow would most likely be in the vicinity of Isla de Muerta, and I should like your help in finding that locale."_

            "Of course! Let's _GO_!" Bootstrap Bill Turner, fearsome pirate, skipped out the door and made his joyful way towards the helm. Calidori followed him out; she stopped in the doorway and turned towards a shadowed corner of the office.

            "_Amiga, if you're going to have your sordid way with the Commodore, _please_ do so when you're off duty."_

            "Sorry Captain," Smike replied.

********

Later that Evening:

            Gillette was completely absorbed in inspecting the _Alecto. So much so that certain parties were beginning to suspect that the captain was overworking himself in an attempt to cope with the loss of his superior officer. One such certain party was on board the new brig now, wandering aimlessly about the deck. He inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of fresh paint in the sea air. There was nothing quite like the feel of a new ship; it felt like the promise of glory. _

            Only now there was no chance of glory for him. This was to be Gillette's glory and vengeance, and now Lievtenant Pearce was struck by the feeling that the voyage on the _Alecto_ would lead them all straight to Hell. Not being the type to ignore such feelings, Pearce made his way to the captain's office where he suspected Gillette would be. _Hopefully not crying_, he thought with a bitter smile. 

            The door opened soundlessly and he was met with the sharp smell of lacquer. Gillette didn't seem to mind, as he was busily setting the office in order. He looked incredibly pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. Pearce was astonished by how thin he looked. 

            "Alexandre, you're not well," he said quietly. Gillette slammed a paperweight down on the desk, but did not look at him. 

            "Don't call me that, Pearce," said Gillette in a very tired voice. "_Please."_

            "Stop avoiding the issue, _sir_. You're going to become ill if you keep going on like this."

            "Going on like what?!" Gillette looked at him now; there were spots of anger on his stricken face and despair in his voice. Pearce stepped closer to his captain and looked him square in the eye.

            "Alex, you're overworking yourself with this-this silly quest for revenge, and none of it is going to bring him back!"

Gillette stared at him and could not make a reply for several moments. When he did, his words were broken. 

            "Don't…don't say things like that."

            "I miss him too, you know,"

            "Stop it." But Pearce continued.

            "He meant a lot to me as well! He wouldn't have wanted us to be unhappy! _Especially you!"_

Gillette was trembling now and made no answer. He was steadied by Pearce's hand on his shoulder. 

            "James was a good man, and he would have wanted us to move on."

            "But it's _my f-fault!" Gillette burst into tears and was not particularly surprised when Pearce put his arms around him. _

            "No it's not," the Lievtenant said gently. "It's not anyone's fault."

********

At that exact moment some sort of psychic bond alerted Norrington to the fact that his SnuggleBunny was engaging in unfaithful activity. His face went utterly white and he screamed to the heavens in rage. 

            "DAMN YOU, PEARCE!!" It was overall a very dramatic effect until Smike McMerlyn, the White Dragon of Sussex whipped him back into submission. 

…Anyway. That was a tad _too_ disturbing. And some three days later on the lovely and macabre Isla de Muerta, Jack Sparrow was rudely awakened by a pistol in his face. 

            "My map, _Señor Sparrow. NOW."_

****************************************

Yay for cliffhanger endings! WOOO!!! Mucho thanks to everyone who's reviewed, I love you guys!  And I put in more Jack, just for you! ..because if I was a less scrupulous individual this fic would be all about Norrington and slashy Naval affairs and nothing would ever get done. I have Calidori to than for keeping me somewhat on track. 

Also: I've done character art for this fic, yaay! It can be found on my Deviant gallery, here:

http : // avalonauggie. deviantart .com / gallery / …just take out my random spaces and you're all set. ^_^.


	6. My Way or the Highway

Chapter Six: My Way or the Highway.

**Peter**: August doesn't own anything, don't sue her. Please. She's a poor college student with naught but a deep and abiding love of writing fanfic, and do you really want to take that away from her? *sad puppy eyes*

**Dickie**: Cut it out, Peter. My horrifying head trauma's hurting again. *wince* why was I such a bastard?

**Peter**: because you're a loveable bastard, even though you have no taste in music?

**Dickie**: fiiine. On with the fic.

Previously on AFTHOTWTB: Stuff happened. Just read the chapter.

Jack was up in a flash, his hands out in a placating gesture as he stared down the barrel of the gun. 

            "Now we don't want no trouble, lass," he said, using his trademark charismatic smile. But the face before him was stern and unmoved. And then it was joined by another face even more emotionless.

            "Well well, Sparrow, we meet again," said Norrington with a dry smile. Calidori frowned and looked at him a moment.

            "_Amigo, I told you that you could come ashore on the _one_ condition that you not gloat! Are all you English _deaf_?"_

            "What's that?" Smike asked from across the cave. She had just finished tying up Gibbs, who appeared to be sauced. Again.  Tim shook his head sadly; but then Anamaria began fighting him tooth and nail, and he had to restrain her. 

            "Love, you can't just treat me crew like this," Jack seemed almost pleading. Almost. "It's not right."

            "It's not by the code!" Gibbs yelled hoarsely.

            "Well you see Captain Sparrow, there are the things a man _can do, and the things he _can't_ do. Isn't that what they say?" she smiled condescendingly. "You for instance can give me back my map, and escape with your life. Conversely you can refuse, and die here in this..._lovely_ cave, with a little ball of lead in your brain."_

            "Now just wait a moment!" Norrington sputtered. "You promised me that Sparrow would be taken back to Port Royal in my custody, and he'd be hanged! That was the deal!" Calidori gave him a withering glance.

            "The deal has been altered, _señor_. Pray I don't alter it any further."          

            "Oh can't I have a bit of fun with him first?" Smike asked beseechingly, eyeing Jack. 

            "_Ah Dios me ayuda," Calidori muttered. "You are all thoroughly impossible."_

This would-be Mexican stand-off could have conceivably gone on forever, or at least until someone got bored and had to take a piss or eat something. But that's not important. The important thing is that that Jack was at gunpoint, and he really, really hated being at gunpoint. That probably says something about his subconscious, but then again I'm not Freud, so infer from that statement what you will. Good. The poorly-established dramatic tension was suddenly (and thankfully) broken by the sound of someone crashing rather loudly into a cave wall. The someone staggered into the cave proper after a few moments, a dramatic head injury seeping a bit of blood onto his bandanna. He put a hand to his head for a moment, falling against a pile of swag and stumbling a bit. But then he looked up, and there was nothing but joy in his eyes. Joy, and a hell of a lot of alcohol.

            "Jack!" he rasped through a sore throat. Calidori rolled her eyes and kept her pistol trained on Sparrow. Sparrow of course ignored the gun and ran towards the drunken Poor Shoeless Bastard (for Poor Shoeless Bastard it was) and there would have been a swell of really cheesy romantic music, had not a shot been fired. Everyone froze, even Poor Shoeless Bastard. He did jerk a little as the round impacted itself in the cave wall. It sent little chips of stone flying in a halo of grey dust. Calidori's pistol smoked, and her eye twitched in a way that could only be described as 'really, really pissed off.'

            "Not one more step, _señor_ Sparrow," she growled through gritted teeth. Norrington at this point made an attempt to wrestle the gun away from the angry Spaniard.

            "Oh come on, madam, it's just a heartfelt reunion," he said, almost beseechingly. For the Commodore was well aquainted with happy slashy reunions when one party thought the other was dead. I'm not kidding. Read "One Night More" if you don't believe me. Calidori batted his arm away, and glared at Poor Shoeless Bastard with all the rage of the fires of Hell.

            "Dammit, Turner! You have RUINED my HOSTAGE-TAKING!!" she bellowed with enough force to rip one of her stitches. "**_GET OUT_**!!!"

Her words however had very little effect, as Bootstrap was nearly being smothered by the force of Sparrow's embrace. There were tears in his eyes. It was all very heartwarming and cute.

            "Smike," said Calidori in a low voice. "Go outside a relay a message to Thom. Tell her our little sodomist is going to be keelhauled." Any further instructions had no chance to be delivered, as she was thoroughly startled by the weight of Norrington's grip gently restraining her arms. Her eyes narrowed. "Unhand me, sir. You are treading a thin line. A _very_ thin line."

            "And you are being too rash, madam. Is all this really necessary?" he said, his voice low. He was doing this against his better judgment, helping Sparrow; but the sight of the two men made his heart ache and he realized that he missed his Lievtenant very, very much. 

            "I'll _not have you undermining my authority, Commodore." Calidori spat, and there was a sudden flurry of motion. Norrington crumpled and dropped to the ground, curled up in a foetal position. He was gasping for breath. _

            "What happened?" Bootstrap asked. They were all very confused. Sparrow, who had had a better view of the goings-on, looked at Calidori appraisingly. 

            "Easy on the goods there, love." He raised an eyebrow. 

            "Shut up," she replied, glaring at him. "Now I _will_ be forced to kill you if I don't get my map back. You don't want to die, do you Sparrow?"

            "No," he said, pondering. "But I believe we may be able to reach an accord."

********

After much negotiating, a few thrown objects, loud interjections from Bootstrap, and some overly snide comments from Norrington which necessitated his removal from the cavern for fifteen minutes, an accord was indeed reached. The conditions were rather simple, but Calidori was less than pleased about how things were turning out. 

            "So I follow your ship to our next destination," Jack explained with gratuitous flourishes of the hand. "You pick up the second half of the map, we both make our way to the treasure, and we split it fifty-fifty, savvy?"

            "Oh, anything to just stop this arguing!" Bootstrap slurred. "I think Jack ish being entirely fair, cap'n."

            "I did not ask your opinion, Poor Shoeless Bastard." Calidori glared at the elder Turner. "Mr. Sparrow," and here she sighed heavily. "We have…an accord." The two captains shook hands on the deal, and slowly everyone filtered out of the cave. 

            Aboard the _Pearl, celebrations ensued. Anamaria of course was rather irked at the fact that the would-be hostage-takers were now her new business partners, but one didn't argue with Jack Sparrow when he was in an agreeable mood. At the moment he was exceedingly agreeable, having spirited Bootstrap away from the _Lobo_ and the two were currently locked in his cabin, making up for lost time. Anamaria would have liked to point out that it would be extremely easy for the other ship to make their escape, or perhaps start firing upon them, but she could already _hear_ the goings-on and didn't care to risk getting a visual for the sake of informing the captain about her opinions._

            Meanwhile, Calidori was again quite close to throwing a fit. After resigning herself to the grim fact that Bootstrap was not aboard the _Pearl in an effort to confiscate the first half of the map, she was forced to think of an alternate plan. A plan which she considered most distasteful._

            "Are you sure you don't want me to seduce Sparrow, captain?" Smike asked, a hopeful expression on her face. Calidori frowned.

            "No, my friend. We all know that you can't hold your rum, and Sparrow seems to already have captured your affections. I don't want your emotions getting in the way of the plan."

            "Permission to disagree, ma'am." Smike grinned. "I have nerves of _steel_. I will not crack under pressure, and Sparrow's charms have no effect on me whatsoever." Smike's statement was interrupted by a snort of derision from Calidori.

            "I am sorry, _amiga_, but that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. No, plans will continue as usual. Let us send a message over to our new sister vessel, eh?"

            A message was shortly sent, containing the sentiment that in order to cement the humours of all parties involved in this new business venture, a celebration should take place ashore. A reply was received post haste, expressing profound agreement to the proposition of the first party, and that the second party would be more than willing to share some of their rum cache. 

            The party, such as it was, had quickly progressed to the point of lewd singing. There was dancing and music, as well as copious amounts of food and drink. Due to this, the celebrations had passed the point of being termed a 'shindig', and were well on their way to being what could only be considered a 'hootenanny'.  Anamaria was dancing, and such was the manner of her performance that Mr. Pontmercy was in danger of fainting. Again. Bootstrap, Tim and Mr. Gibbs were relating old tales of death and misadventure on the high seas, when Lt. Thom interjected with her own opinions on the subject, and the three quickly began comparing scars with one another.

            "Whad'youmean, you were 'rooting for me', Sparrow?" Norrington asked, swaying where he sat. Jack glanced at him, or rather a spot somewhere to the left of the Commodore's head. Smike meanwhile surreptitiously stole Sparrow's hat.

            "Jus' what I said, mate. Lizzbeth was never th'one for you. Too..." he made a vague hand gesture "too bony. And LOUD! Good god, was she loud."

            "Tha's verry true." Norrington said, nodding.

            "I can hear you both, you know!" Elizabeth said angrily. 

            "Pay them no mind, Elizabeth," said Will, his hat threatening to fall into the fire as he swayed. "I shall kill all who besmirch my fair lady's honour!"

This outburst caused both Sparrow and Calidori to dissolve into a fit of giggles. Will glared at them both.

            "Why you laughina' me?!" he asked angrily. Norrington smirked.

            "Laughing, ha. They're laughin atcha because…because…cause you couldn't besmirch your way outta paper bag! ...no. I mean, _kill. Yeah. Thassit." The Commodore waggled his eyebrows. Will began to quietly cry, and laid his head on Elizabeth's shoulder. _

And so the party continued much in the same manner for the rest of the night, until some individuals staggered off towards the ships in pairs, and until other individuals were too drunk to move. And thus the day ended.

*************

            "Sir, I've just received some information regarding our quarry," Pearce said quietly. "Thought you'd like to hear about it."

            "Of course, of course. Let's have it, then," Gillette replied. He noticed the storytelling gleam in his Lievtenant's eyes.

            "Well sir, the ship in question is a Spanish privateer vessel going by the name _El Lobo Fuerte. As far as I'm able to tell, she's properly registered, and her captain ought to have a letter of the marque in her possession."    Gillette drummed his fingers on the desk, and looked up._

            "Yes, what do we know about this captain, Percy? I have a feeling we'll need all the information we can possibly get if we want to track this 'lady' down."

            "The captain goes by Calidori, no first name to my knowledge. I received a letter from Moncrieff this morning-"

            "Why in God's name did you involve _him in this?! Now, Bennett will want to be involved, and if that occurs I have serious doubts that either Mr. Turner or Miss Swann would survive such a skirmish."_

            "Well sir, Moncrieff does have an extensive knowledge of the pirate activity in Europe and the Mediterranean, and I thought it best to ask if it would at all help our situation. At any rate, he was quite forthcoming with what he knew of this Calidori woman. Apparently though she sails under the Spanish flag, it's been said that Calidori most recently was working under rather covert Papal orders and targeting the corsairs along the east African coast."

            "Taking on corsairs, is she? No honour among thieves, I suppose. Although it seems rather a tall order for a privateer, and a woman at that." Gillette narrowed his dark eyes. He had begun to think of this woman as Norrington's real murderer, and he was not pleased to hear such ominous tales about his enemy.

            "By all accounts she's a terror. Last year she was burning settlements around Carthage, evidently; the attacks moved westward, ending in what Moncrieff describes as an horrific firestorm in Alexandria six months ago. After that, there's been no word of her whereabouts. Until now. "

            "Good lord, that was her?" his eyes were wide at the news. Pearce looked almost smug.

            "Evidently, sir. They call her a one-woman Crusade. They say that among her countrymen, Calidori is known as the Wolf of Rome."

Gillette's mouth was set in a thin line of a scowl. 

            "She took James from us, Pearce. Wolf or no, we shall see what happens to this pirate when we call down the furies on her."

********

The world was entirely too unpleasant. Her eyes were squinted shut, as if that would help the rocking of the ship. She had been altogether too drunk the previous evening, Calidori decided. She fumbled the table by the cot on which her pocketwatch rested, but the movement caused the bed to sway. She went rather green in the face and blinked wearily. A low sleepy noise came from her right, followed by stirring, and an arm trailing across her stomach. She blinked, and looked about slightly. It was a distinctly male arm, and she herself was distinctly naked. Calidori froze for a moment, her eyes wide, but then memories of discussing a plan with Smike floated to the top of her mind. She smiled and sat up a bit, looking for Jack's coat which most likely held her map fragment. 

The coat was draped neatly over a chair, but Calidori's muddled brain noted that it looked rather….blue, with too much brocade. She blinked, trying to remember where she had seen said coat in the past. It seemed rather familiar. She turned to the nightstand and found her pocketwatch, but when she saw what else was on the table the watch dropped to the floor with a dull clatter. Sitting there entirely too neatly and damning were a neat tricornered hat and (most distressingly) a white powdered wig. The sleeping figure shifted closer to her and draped an arm over her waist. Calidori screamed in utter bloodcurdling horror, crawled backward in the manner of a crab, and promptly fell off the edge of the bed, taking most of the linens with her. 

"Oh dear **_lord_," said Norrington as he sat up and the colour drained from his face.**

"**_GET OUT!!"_**

********

Smike smiled to herself, running light fingers over the arm that was wrapped around her. 

            "I had better get on deck…" she murmured, turning slightly. She paused, frowning, as her hand brushed a spiderweb of ragged scars, starting at his elbow and running around and nearly down to the wrist. She sat up to see more clearly.

            "What is that?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

            "S'nothing, love," Jack mumbled, pulling her back into his embrace. "Go back to sleep." She settled back down, but she could find no peace in the silence of the cabin.

********

The sky was still nearly dark; the captain could see no red at the east. There was only a gradual replacement of the darkness by bleak pale gray. She heard footsteps behind her, and turned sharply. But seeing who approached her, she turned back towards the sea, leaning over the railing of the quarterdeck. 

"…I wish to make an apology, madam." The Commodore's cautious tone caused Calidori to shut her eyes and sigh.

"Don't." she said quietly. 

"I'm sorry?"

"There is no _need for an apology, __señor." She turned to look at him briefly, scowling._

"No, no I must make amends in any way that I can-"

"It never _happened, understand?"_

"At least for the sake of your honor, madam! I am deeply ashamed of my actions." She turned to him, her face pinched with anger.

"Oh, do I shame you so greatly?" her voice rose steadily. "a stain on _your_ honor, you mean, to be in such an **undignified** position with a _crippled_ female pirate!"

"Well a-actually," he stammered. Calidori uttered and incoherent scream of rage and in swift motion tore the powdered wig from the Commodore's head and cast it onto the ocean. Norrington stared at her aghast, spots of colour rising on his cheeks.

"I…I…"

"Do us all a favour, _amigo_, and jump in after it," Calidori spat as she stalked back to the helm. 

**************  

Author's Notes: woo! That was angsty, wasn't it? …Well, this chapter took absolutely forever to finish, due to Real Life and all its intrusions. At any rate, here it is. I'm rather sick of this chapter, honestly. It took up far too much time, and I felt too obligated with including some scenes and such for the sake of the audience. Also, at this point the story gets more…action/adventurey, and honestly, less humorous. I hope it's still funny on some levels, but the story's really started taking itself seriously, so if you stop liking the fic, this would be why. Any complaints, flames, and/or death threats at the myriad of romantic subplots that have been/will be introduced should be sent to me in review form, because I adore reviews like nobody's business, regardless of the content. And if you liked this chapter, you can review it also! Yay!

~August~


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